


Entertaining Angels Unawares

by cyankelpie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale is desperate, Aziraphale makes a mistake, BUT MAKE IT ANGSTY, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Crowley is also desperate but in a different way, First Kiss, M/M, Magical Disguise, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Some pretty terrible flirting, Temptation, Undercover Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyankelpie/pseuds/cyankelpie
Summary: Thanks to some experimental magic from Upstairs, Aziraphale has a chance to interact with Crowley without being recognized. A bit of flirting couldn't hurt, right? It's not as if anyone will ever know it was him, and there is a lot he's wanted to say and do for a very long time.It isn't his fault Crowley is so good at his job.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a departure from my usual work. If you’ve read any of my other fics, you may have noticed that, in addition to them all being very (implicitly or explicitly) asexual, I’ve never actually written the husbands kissing. This is because a) wanting to kiss someone is not something I have any experience with, and b) I would like to see more romantic relationships in fiction where kissing is not a factor, because those relationships are good and valid and I don’t see them represented enough. Except then I had this idea that didn’t really work within my usual parameters, and then I wrote it, and then I figured I might as well post it. I am probably overthinking, but I felt the need to write this disclaimer anyway.
> 
> Rant aside, hopefully I've done a not-terrible job writing something I'm not usually comfortable with writing, and come up with something you lovely people can enjoy.

Aziraphale finished the last of his drink, signaled the bartender for another, and tapped his fingers on the sticky bartop. It had been hours. Crowley was late. Not that there was an appointed time, or that he even knew Aziraphale was waiting for him, but he would usually be here by now. Maybe he’d fallen asleep again. Maybe Aziraphale should head home, change his corporation back from this absurd disguise, and try another night.

He really was running out of time, though, and the whole idea was that Crowley didn’t know he was coming. He fiddled with the silver pendant currently shielding his aura, though he still didn’t know whether the charm actually worked. He was supposed to be testing it for Gabriel and the other archangels, but for that he needed a demon to shield his aura from, and said demon had yet to make an appearance. If he hadn’t shown by the time Aziraphale finished his third drink, he decided, he would call it a night.

Halfway through the drink, he finally felt Crowley’s familiar aura and turned to see him sauntering in. If the charm worked, Crowley would not catch even a whiff of angelic presence, and if he glanced over at Aziraphale he’d see an ordinary human woman who bore no resemblance to him. If the charm didn’t work, Crowley would probably ask what the heaven Aziraphale was doing here, and Aziraphale didn’t really know how to explain himself in that case, so hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

Crowley ignored Aziraphale completely and sat down a few stools over. That was a good sign, right? Usually he would have said hello. There was still a possibility, however, that Crowley was simply in a sour mood today. Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Hello.”

Crowley glanced his way, didn’t say anything, and then turned back to order his drink.

That seemed inconclusive. Aziraphale tried again. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Dunno,” said Crowley. “Could be.”

So it did work. Crowley had no idea who he was. The anonymity brought him a little rush of glee. He could say anything, and there happened to be rather a lot of things he had never said to Crowley. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m quite sure I’d remember someone so beautiful.”

Crowley muttered something to himself, took a sip of his drink, and then turned to face him with a roguish grin. “Really.”

A thrill shivered through Aziraphale. This was new. It was fun. “Oh, yes. That hair, it’s like fire.” He was too giddy with alcohol and the delight of being able to flirt with Crowley to think of a better metaphor. Well, he’d already said it, so he might as well stick with it. “Do you think it would burn me?”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

Oh. Aziraphale blinked. Crowley was _tempting_ him. He’d mentioned before that he was practically required as a demon to play along whenever anyone flirted with him (which, Aziraphale assumed, must be quite often). Aziraphale hadn’t exactly planned on putting himself in this position, but…Well, Crowley was very good at tempting.

He shouldn’t—he shouldn’t let himself be tempted by a demon, right? Even if Crowley didn’t recognize him, and he was the only person who would ever know, and it was just going to be the one time, and he was already so far-gone for Crowley that it couldn’t possibly do any more harm, and none of these thoughts were putting him off the idea so he was already moving down to the seat beside Crowley.

Hesitantly, he reached up to stroke Crowley’s hair. His fingers sank into the silky red strands. He giggled. He’d been wanting to do that for a long time.

After about a minute of this, Crowley cleared his throat and took hold of Aziraphale’s wrist to guide his hand away. “Not burned, I take it?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale hadn’t realized how long he’d been petting Crowley’s head. He gave a nervous little laugh. “I-I must look quite foolish right now.”

“Nah,” said Crowley. “That’s what alcohol’s for, so you can do whatever you want and then blame it on the drink later. You wanna touch some stranger’s hair just ‘cause he’ll let you? Go for it.”

Aziraphale almost took this as encouragement to start doing it again, but Crowley’s hand was around his wrist, and the last thing he wanted right now was to break contact. They didn’t touch nearly as often as Aziraphale would have liked to. He doubted Crowley would have wanted it as much as Aziraphale did, and besides, it was too dangerous. But not tonight.

Crowley let go of his wrist, and Aziraphale wanted to reach for him again, but then Crowley’s hand was on the back of Aziraphale’s chair and he was sliding closer. “So,” he said in a low voice that put butterflies in Aziraphale’s chest. “What else do you wanna do?”

Aziraphale couldn’t breathe. He could do anything, and nobody would ever know it was him. Crowley was closer to him than Aziraphale could ever remember. And there were a lot of things he wanted.

He reached for Crowley’s face with both hands and kissed him.

Well, thought Crowley, that hadn’t been hard.

Alcohol always made tempting easier, and the woman had been pretty buzzed. Also, very desperate, judging by the way she was currently kissing him. It was all so quick that he wasn’t sure if this could even count as a seduction, but hell wouldn’t care. Hopefully he could wrap this up quickly. This sort of temptation was more of a chore than anything else at that point. He’d been hoping to avoid this tonight, but of course he had to run into some random woman who happened to be desperate for—

She pushed him away. “Oh no.” She looked suddenly appalled, and significantly more sober than she had a second ago. “No, I can’t do this.”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose. What had just happened? He was pretty sure he wasn’t that bad at kissing, and she’d seemed to be enjoying it. “Why not?”

Her hands were shaking, her eyes flitting around the room in a way that felt somehow familiar. “T-terribly selfish,” she stammered. “Dishonest—”

“Got someone waiting for you at home, is that it?” Lust was bad, but adultery was even worse, which meant it would be better for Crowley. Not that he ever enjoyed causing trouble in people’s relationships, but a job was a job. He had to fill his quota somehow.

The woman didn’t answer him, apparently too shaken to even speak now. She wouldn’t look at him, either. Crowley wondered, briefly, if he might have done something wrong, and then reminded himself that that was his job.

“Come on, where’s the harm?” At this point, he doubted he’d be able to salvage the situation, but he might as well make a good faith (or bad faith) effort. “It’s just a bit of harmless fun.”

“ _No,_ ” she insisted, shutting her eyes. “It’s out of the question.”

Crowley froze. That tone—He realized now what her nervous energy reminded him of. But that didn’t make any sense. Crowley sniffed the air. Under her perfume, he recognized a familiar scent. No. No, it couldn’t be— “Are you sssure we don’t know each other?” he said, pulling his arm away and leaning as far back as his chair would allow.

She glanced at him, and he pulled down his sunglasses to flash his yellow eyes at her. She didn’t even flinch. Anyone who hadn’t seen them before would flinch. He ripped the glasses off completely and scrambled backwards off his chair. “ _Aziraphale?_ ”

She—or, rather, he—flinched, like the name caused him physical pain. His face strained, and he looked everywhere but at Crowley, tensing like a caught rabbit looking for a direction to bolt.

“What the heaven.” Crowley’s mind spun in circles. He couldn’t have—But Aziraphale—Since when had he _wanted_ — “What the _fuck_.”

“I, um,” Aziraphale said unhelpfully. “Er. Well.”

“Did you just—” Crowley could barely get the words out, because that _couldn’t_ be what had just happened, except that Aziraphale was still sitting there in another form looking terrified. “Just—trick me into trying to seduce you?”

Aziraphale’s face was scarlet. He looked like he might catch on fire if nobody did anything about it soon. He shut his eyes, his face writhing in a cringe. “Ah. Hm, that is—er—”

Holy _shit,_ he had. He had flirted, and petted Crowley’s hair, and—Crowley wiped his mouth, but damn it all to hell, he could still _taste_ —All without Crowley’s knowledge, under the cover of a disguise. Lied to and taken advantage of him, for a bit of flirting and a quick snog, which—Did he have any idea how long Crowley had—

“Fucking shit.” He couldn’t stand here and take this humiliation. Without looking at Aziraphale, he turned and ran out of the bar.

He’d finally kissed the love of his life, and it was because of a lie. He hadn’t even known it. The angel had just stolen their first kiss from him like it meant nothing, had let Crowley tempt him like he was just another tally to add to his lust quota. Was that all he thought this was for Crowley?

Was that all it was to Aziraphale?

“Shit,” he hissed, and his eyes started watering. “ _Fuck_.”

Aziraphale took his time walking to the picnic table where they had planned to meet, trying to put off this conversation for a few more seconds. He and Crowley hadn’t spoken since the incident two weeks ago. He supposed he ought to be glad Crowley had agreed to meet with him at all, but, now that he saw the demon hunched into a tangle of sharp limbs over the picnic table, his arms folded and his mouth a hard line, he wanted to turn back around and go home. He just wanted to pretend it had never happened, and go back to how things had been between them. He didn’t even know if that was possible now.

It was pathetic. There was no other word for it. Crowley had just been doing his job, which Aziraphale _knew_ he didn’t like, and he had sat there and giggled like an idiot and let himself pretend it meant something. Under ordinary circumstances, Crowley would never look at Aziraphale like that, never lean in close enough to feel the warmth of his body—he’d definitely never let Aziraphale take that gorgeous face in his hands and press their lips together—

He flushed at the memory. It had been such a terrible idea. How was he ever going to forget what those lips felt like?

Attempting a smile, and trying to pretend like he hadn't just been thinking about that awful stolen kiss, Aziraphale sat down on the other side of the picnic bench. “Hello." His voice came out much too cheery, and he winced. He wasn’t sure how to talk during this conversation.

Crowley didn’t return the greeting. “You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale cleared his throat and launched into the speech he had practiced at home in the mirror. “I—I want to apologize for, er, for what happened. What I did. I shouldn’t have deceived you like that, or, er—I only thought, if you were tempting me then you wouldn’t be tempting any humans, you see—”

A thin excuse. He had kissed Crowley first. He didn’t have to do that.

“I got carried away.” He babbled a little as his rehearsed apology broke down in the face of Crowley’s stony expression. “I’m so sorry, I never should have—Rest assured that it will never happen again. We don’t have to talk about it, or—We can just forget it ever happened. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. I was drunk, I don’t know what possessed me—” He cleared his throat and tried to get back on track. “I crossed a boundary. We’re friends—associates, that’s all—It was terribly inappropriate—”

“Did you just come to rub salt in the wound?” His face was tense, like he was expending a great effort in holding something back. He started to stand up. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have come.”

“What? No, wait, please—” Aziraphale stuttered, grabbing for his sleeve. He needed Crowley to stay, to listen, to forgive him…

Crowley tugged his arm free. “Don’t waste my time, Aziraphale. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

“Tell me, then,” Aziraphale practically begged. _Explain it to me, tell me what to say, tell me why I hurt you so I never do it again._

Crowley’s shoulder’s slumped. Aziraphale didn’t know if he had ever looked this tired. “You used me, Aziraphale.”

“Yes, I know.” He nodded, looking down at the table. “I know, it was deplorable, I’m so sor—”

“And you know what the worst part is?” Crowley went on. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you.”

Aziraphale’s mouth snapped shut, and his eyes widened. Did he mean…Did he…?

Crowley rubbed his eyes underneath his sunglasses. “It’s that I’d have liked it to mean something.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Aziraphale couldn’t think. It was impossible. How many times had he told himself that Crowley could never—

“Well!” Crowley straightened suddenly with a terrible, hollow smile. “Good talk. Let’s never mention this again. See you never, Aziraphale.” He got to his feet and stalked away.

Aziraphale couldn’t move. If Crowley felt the same way as he did—And here he had been making excuses for himself, giving a million reasons except the one which was true—He had deceived Crowley, desperate for something he thought he could never have, when all along—

“Wait,” he said, his voice finally coming back to him. “Crowley, wait!”

Crowley was already disappearing into the trees on the other side of the park. If he heard Aziraphale, he gave no sign of it. In another moment he was gone.

Aziraphale was on his feet, and considered running after him—but what was he going to say? That he felt the same? That was impossible. Angels weren’t supposed to love demons. They weren’t supposed to kiss them, either, but nobody was supposed to find out about that. And nobody could find out about this, either. If Crowley knew—

But he’d looked so hurt.

But—

_See you never, Aziraphale._

Aziraphale sat back down, hands worrying at each other. There had to be another way to fix this. It couldn’t be the end of their friendship, the end of the Arrangement, the end, as far as Aziraphale was concerned, of everything. He couldn’t tell Crowley how he felt, but there had to be something he could say.

He barely remembered the walk home. Inside the bookshop, he turned the sign to “open,” then back to “closed,” and went into the back room. Picked up the phone. Stared at it, put it down. He didn’t trust himself to say the right things, after how badly he’d wrecked things just now. Crowley would chide him for being old-fashioned, but some things called for pen and paper. He sat down at his desk, pulled out those two items, and started to write.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley went home and went straight to bed. He couldn’t stand to stay awake and keep thinking about this. Aziraphale’s words played on loop in his head. _Never happen again. We’re associates, that’s all._

Well, now the cat was out of the metaphorical bag Crowley had shut him in for centuries. That should put the angel off the idea of casually making out with Crowley. Crowley couldn’t do casual, not when it came to Aziraphale, and if he even tried he knew it would wreck him. That wasn’t likely to be a problem, though, since Aziraphale would probably never want to see him again after this. Why did he have to go and open his mouth?

He knew why. He’d been hurt, and he wanted Aziraphale to know that. Not that it made him hurt any less.

He fell facefirst onto the mattress without even bothering to change into his pajamas, closed his eyes, and willed himself into unconsciousness. The awful storm of thoughts finally stopped. It was bliss. And then he started to dream.

It was one of the good ones, he thought, when he looked around and found himself in the garden. Aziraphale was there, and he smiled and wrapped himself around Crowley and kissed him over and over. _I love you,_ said Crowley, and then Aziraphale said, _Oh, no, I can’t do this,_ and pushed him away, and Crowley fell backwards and just kept falling, falling, _falling_ —

He shouted himself awake, damp with sweat and tangled in the sheets. He rubbed his face, cursed a few times, and tried to fall back asleep.

The dreams kept coming. Sometimes, they were the usual kind of nightmares, memories of the Fall, or the burning of Alexandria, or the Spanish Inquisition. Sometimes there were new ones like the one in the garden. There was one where Crowley dodged his way through a rain of bullets to sweep Aziraphale off his feet and rescue him, and only once they were both safe did Aziraphale drop the _You go to fast for me,_ and leave him forever. There was another where they were laughing in the bookshop, and Crowley handed an apple to Aziraphale, and watched, horrified, as the angel bit into it and burst into flame. There was another dream where Aziraphale came back to his place and they spent the night together, and when Crowley woke up alone he didn’t realize at first that the dream was over.

He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Sleeping had only made him feel worse. Maybe he could try some other distraction. Get out of the house for a bit, drive around terrorizing London drivers and blasting rock music. Surely something would get rid of this sick feeling in his chest.

His plants had gotten some ideas while he was asleep, and he screamed himself hoarse for a while telling them exactly what he thought of them. If his eyes watered as he did it that was nobody else’s business. He wandered the flat, trying to come up with _something_ he could do to take his mind off the whole thing. As he crossed the hallway to the study, he glanced up and spotted something on the floor in front of the door. Warily, he crept closer. It was a cream-colored envelope, sealed with cobalt blue wax, and addressed, simply, _C_.

Crowley rubbed his mouth as his emotions failed to sort themselves out. What should he do? Open it?

Obviously, he should open it. He picked it up and broke the seal. The envelope left a thin layer of dust on his fingertips. He must have been asleep for quite a while. He pulled out the letter and unfolded it without looking at it, like he’d be able to read it without actually reading it. That obviously wasn’t how letters worked. Taking a deep breath, and heading to the sofa, Crowley skimmed the letter to see what he was in for.

He caught the phrases _continue the Arrangement_ and _pretend it never happened_ , along with lots of _I hope_ ’s and apologies, and decided he might be able to stand reading the whole thing. He checked the last line, just to be sure. _Please send me your answer. If you do not, I will be able to imply it well enough._

That wasn’t enough context. He went back a few lines. … _should you allow me the opportunity. Your friendship is far too important…_

Wait. He sat down and read the whole last paragraph.

_You were right to say that I used you. I deceived you in such horrible fashion that I am ashamed to call myself your friend. I will strive to behave better in the future, should you allow me the opportunity. Your friendship is far too important to me to throw away. I could never forgive myself if I ruined it forever in a moment of weakness and indiscretion, but if that were the case, I would understand. Please send me your answer. If you do not, I will be able to imply it well enough._

_[unintelligible],_

_A._

Crowley exhaled and read the whole letter from the beginning. He had wanted to be angry. He had wanted to be so furious at Aziraphale that it burned the angel out of his heart forever, but he couldn’t be angry in the face of this letter. How could Aziraphale blame himself, when Crowley had thought he was the one who had ruined everything by being in love with him? His fingertips traced the words _friend_ and _important_. Aziraphale might never return his feelings in the same way, and he knew he’d never be able to give Aziraphale what he now knew he wanted without destroying himself, but he was important to the angel. Important enough for him to put it in writing, even if it was too dangerous to sign his name to it. That was something to hold onto.

_Please send me your answer. If you do not, I will be able to imply it well enough._

Crowley had probably been asleep for weeks, if not months. Aziraphale might already have assumed Crowley never wanted to speak to him again. Crowley could easily let him go on thinking that, and spare himself the pain of seeing him again and remembering that Aziraphale had stolen that kiss.

Crowley went to the phone and dialed the bookshop. Of course he wasn’t just going to let go of Aziraphale. He’d never been able to do that. There would be other conversations, and the memory would fade eventually. Both of them had agreed it would be best never to mention what had happened. They could just move on. Or, at least, they could try.

“Hello, this is A. Z. Fell’s,” said Aziraphale’s voice. “Mr. Fell speaking.”

“Hey.”

There was a long pause. “…Crowley?”

“Got your letter,” he said. “S’fine.” He hung up.

The phone started ringing shortly afterwards. No, dammit, this wasn’t going to be another Conversation. Crowley had had enough of those. He let the answering machine get it. “ _This is Anthony J. Crowley._ ”

Aziraphale still didn’t seem to understand answering machines, and started having a conversation with it. “I know it’s you, we spoke just seconds ago—”

“ _You know what to do, do it with style. –Beep._ ”

“What the devil is that supposed to mean? First you hang up on me, after over a year of silence and such a brief message—Are you still there?”

Crowley looked at the phone and did not pick it up.

Aziraphale sighed. “You’re still angry with me, then. I understand.”

Damn it. _Damn_ it. Crowley picked up the phone. “I’m not angry.”

There was a pause. “You’re not?”

“Nah,” said Crowley. “Not with you.”

He didn’t know who to blame for this, but it couldn’t be Aziraphale after that letter. He hadn’t known Crowley was in love with him, and he couldn’t help it if he was attracted to Crowley. He’d been drunk, and probably wasn’t in control, and Crowley had thought it was his job to go along with it. But he’d never meant to tempt Aziraphale. He never wanted it to go like that.

“Oh.” Aziraphale sounded relieved. “Er, then who—”

“You said we didn’t have to talk about it again,” Crowley interrupted. All he wanted right now was to forget it and move on. “Arrangement. Still…still on?”

“Only if you want it to be, my d—Crowley.”

Crowley winced. Was that how it was going to be? Was he going to have to start checking himself before he called Aziraphale “angel”?

“Do you have any assignments I could take, perhaps?”

Maybe he could just give Aziraphale all his seductions from now on, since the angel apparently had a taste for that sort of thing, and Crowley, who had never enjoyed them much to begin with, was really starting to hate them. At least that way he’d know he’d never wind up accidentally kissing Aziraphale again. “…Nah,” he decided, when he recognized that that was the spite talking. They were supposed to be making up, after all. “You?”

“No, nothing just yet.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We’ll be in touch?”

“Sure.” Crowley waited another few seconds to see if Aziraphale had anything else to say, and then hung up. What a productive conversation. If it could even be called a conversation. Awkward as hell. He hoped it wouldn’t be like this from now on.

They’d had worse fights, hadn’t they? There was that time in the eighteen-hundreds, and in the fourteenth century…

Well. This was a little different, wasn’t it?


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale looked down at his own tightly-clenched hands as the bus trundled towards London. He could barely wrap his mind around the fact that it was over. The world had not ended after all, and he had his corporation back again, and Crowley, too, was miraculously alive and nodding off to sleep in the seat next to him. And they were going home.

Well, not to Aziraphale’s home. That was gone. But Earth, his larger home, was still here, and Crowley was still here, which was at least as important. Crowley was kind to give Aziraphale a place to stay, after everything that had happened between them. Aziraphale had been so cruel to the demon over the years. He had pushed him away, said things he didn’t mean, outright lied to him, even when he had known, as he had for the past couple of decades, how Crowley felt about him, even when he himself felt the same way…

Assuming Crowley still did feel that way. If he didn’t, Aziraphale couldn’t blame him, but he needed to at least tell Crowley the truth.

Heaven didn’t own him anymore. He was not beholden to anyone. He was free, he could do whatever he wanted—

The last time he had a chance to do whatever he wanted he had ruined things terribly.

He drew a deep breath, looked down at the slender hand resting on Crowley’s knee, and wanted more than anything to take it in his own. He couldn’t. This wasn’t just about him. There were Crowley’s feelings to consider, as well, and if he reacted the same way he had last time…

Aziraphale’s fingers twitched. He clenched his hands more tightly, stared down at them, and did not take Crowley’s hand.

Crowley unlocked the door to his flat and flicked on the switch. “It’s not much,” he said, stepping into the flat and wishing it weren’t so empty. “Probably not your type of place. I can, um, try to find some tea.”

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale. “Crowley—”

“Make yourself comfortable.” He waved vaguely at the sofa and retreated into the kitchen. All he wanted to do was sleep off everything that had happened today, but he couldn’t leave Aziraphale awake all by himself in this starkly minimalist flat. All the empty space might swallow him up. He wished, not for the first time, that his place was a bit more like the bookshop.

Crowley hadn’t owned a teapot and kettle until he opened the cabinet and pulled them out. After a moment’s thought he managed to scrounge up a tin of chamomile as well. As he spooned the tea out into the strainer, Aziraphale cleared his throat, startling him into scattering some of the dried flowers across the cabinet. “Don’t sneak up on me like that—”

“I’m sorry.”

He sounded much too sincere to be apologizing for startling Crowley just now. Crowley turned, and when he saw that Aziraphale had tears in his eyes he dropped the spoon. “Angel, don’t—”

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale said, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean what I said in the park, Crowley, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’ve been awful to you over the years, and I—”

“Stop,” said Crowley alarmed. “I know you didn’t mean any of that stuff. You were under heaven’s thumb, I get it.”

“And for—” Aziraphale took a moment to blink his eyes clear. “For, for that time in the nineties, when I…when I tricked you…”

Crowley blinked very slowly and turned back to the tea. “We agreed we wouldn’t mention that again.”

“No, but I need to tell you—”

“Why are you bringing that up?” Crowley started to get angry. Now, of all times, when he was spending the night at Crowley’s apartment? Surely he didn’t think something like that would happen again?

“You misunderstood,” said Aziraphale, and wiped his eyes. “And I never told you—”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Aziraphale.”

“Could you listen to me, please—”

“What’s there to say?” said Crowley, turning back around and throwing up his hands. “I’m still not up for a meaningless snog. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“I d-didn’t want it to be meaningless.”

Crowley stopped. He blinked and let out a quick breath.

Aziraphale twisted his hands together, looking tortured. “I didn’t want it to go that way, only I didn’t—I wanted—but I didn’t think you would ever—”

“What are you saying?” It couldn’t be what Crowley hoped for, but damn it, he _hoped…_

Aziraphale’s throat worked for a moment. “I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

Crowley couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe, or speak. That wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t. It couldn’t have been the case all this time, and it definitely couldn’t have been the reason Aziraphale had kissed him—

The angel looked away from him. “I-I understand, if your…if your feelings have changed. But you deserve to know.”

Crowley stared at him. It took about a minute for him to remember that he should probably say something in reply.

“Well,” said Aziraphale, trying for a smile. “That’s all. I-I’ve made things rather awkward now, haven’t I? I’ll just take my tea in the other room.”

He turned to leave, and Crowley’s brain finally started working well enough to recognize that he didn’t want that to happen. He grabbed Aziraphale’s arm to stop him. “If my,” he croaked. “If my feelings have changed.”

Aziraphale nodded without looking at Crowley. “It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to—”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s throat was like sand as he tried to swallow. “You think they could change? Believe me, I’ve tried. You’re an infuriating person to love.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up in understanding. “Oh, Crowley,” he said, slipping free of Crowley’s grasp on his arm so he could take his hand. “My dear.”

That had been a terrible confession. Crowley didn’t know how to do any of this. It couldn’t be like last time, but temptations were the closest thing that he knew how to do. His knees shook, and the only thing grounding him at this point was Aziraphale’s hand in his. He was such a mess. This wasn’t at all attractive. “What—happened back then,” he started haltingly. “I was tempting humans, right? That was just work. I can’t have it be like that with you. You’re—you’re so much more than that.”

“I understand.” Aziraphale beamed up at Crowley, his eyes soft. The hand that wasn’t holding Crowley’s came up to cradle the side of his face, and Crowley could even believe that this was what he had wanted all along. Not the Crowley who sauntered into a room, hips swaying, and tempted humans in a sultry voice. Just Crowley.

“Although, you know,” said Aziraphale, a bit of a devilish glint coming into his eyes, “temptation was never part of _my_ job.”

Crowley wasn’t following. “Uh. What?”

“If I did the tempting,” said Aziraphale, stepping closer. “Would that be alright with you?”

There were inches between their faces now, but Aziraphale still held back, waiting for a sign from Crowley that it was okay. Crowley’s heart pounded. He had never wanted anything more in his life. And Aziraphale waited patiently, offering, but not forcing it on him.

“You’ve been tempting me from the beginning, angel.” Crowley leaned forward and gave in.

When they finally broke apart, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, leaned his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder, and giggled.

“What?” Crowley couldn’t tell if Aziraphale was laughing at him or something else.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale laughed. “It’s just, that was such a _line—_ ”

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley groaned, and set to work kissing that smug grin off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the angst has burned off, add cheese


End file.
